Ring Made Of Grass
by Paradoxxia
Summary: RLSB. He was actually, truly, irreversibly, completely, madly, helplessly, deeply, entirely in love with Sirius Black. But the world isn't a fairytale, and even when one loves you back, some things have the worst timing.


DISCLAIMER: Harry does not love Draco. Draco does not love Harry. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter, or it's universe.

Contains implied slash. If you can't stand the idea of men kissing, you probably don't want to read this. )

--

Littered flowers, daises and snowbells are on the ground, scattered as far as the eye can see. Grass, its shade reminds of spring and plants and earth, is covering the field in such a layer, a carpet. Trees edge the place, rich in colour. Pools of water catch the light, dotted so perfectly, it's almost as if this is paradise itself.

A smile, full of happiness and shock and cheer, spreads over Remus face, and he can't help but feel like he might, maybe, cry.

He turns to Sirius, and sees his wand out. His tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth, he flicks his hair out of his eyes in concentration, and his hands are moving gracefully through the air, brandishing his wand. Long, fluid movements, and Remus can't help but watch, can't tear his eyes away.

Beautiful.

Sirius turns, feeling Remus' eyes on him, his joy written across his face. He looks so astonishingly angelic, and so happy and so trusting and so Sirius. Remus can feel it, and it's his heart, and it's filling, going to burst.

He can't hide it any longer.

He's actually, truly, irreversibly, completely, madly, helplessly, deeply, entirely in love with Sirius Black.

He turns to where Sirius was watching, dizzy at this new revelation (New? He's known it for eras, he's always known it), and can't help but smile.

Amongst the grass, lush and scented, and the flowers, delicate and natural. Amongst the cool pools of shimmering, clear water, and the trees stretching tall as the eye can see. Amongst all the mosses and plants and amongst nature itself, is a blanket.

A blanket in deep red, edged by gold, so clean it would put Molly Weasley to shame.

On the blanket is a hamper.

No kidding. A wooden, weaved, muggle-style, classic hamper, it's handles lingering in the air, and if someone has just put it down.

Sirius takes his hands, leads him over, and they sit.

He opens the hamper; sure enough, it's filled. With a cocky smile on his face, Sirius takes out knives, forks, spoons, serviettes, glasses – more than should fit in the hamper. Remus lets another smile creep onto his face.

Sirius looks at Remus once more, and, keeping eye contact, he reaches into the hamper. He lets a smirk appear onto his face, as, with a flourish, he pulls out an entire roast chicken.

Remus' favourite.

How did you do that? 

_Do what?_

_You're not meant to be able to do that; you can't make food appear out of nowhere. You just cast a spell to make a hamper appear full of food! You can-_

_Ah, I have many secrets, my dear Remus! _

Sirius continues to pull out more and more food; naturally, all of Remus' favourite appear.

When it appears Sirius is finished, without waiting for permission, Remus reaches over. He places a hand on Sirius's neck, drags him down to meet his lips. Sirius is only too happy to kiss him back, and the two sink down on the blanket, locked at the lips.

The rest of the date can wait; they've had dates already.

Of course, they've had kisses already; as if they'll ever have anything better to do than kiss, however!

--- --- --- -- -- - --- - --- -- - - -

Its hours later, and the two are still there. Sirius lies contentedly down, propping himself up by his elbows. Remus sits opposite, cross-legged, arms stretched behind him to hold himself up.

They're happy to just sit in the silence.

Or one is, anyway.

Sirius opens his mouth- of course he does- and keeps a deliberately casual voice to hide his thumping heart.

Remus? 

Only a small "hmm?" is heard to show that the werewolf has heard him.

_I've fallen in love with you._

Remus can only stare.

Apparently at ease, Sirius lays back and places his hands behind his head. He looks up at the clouds, so fluffy and clean above his head.

_Will you marry me?_

Remus has never known a question that's been easier to answer. But the words are stuck in his throat, and he's sure his ears have betrayed him, and his heart is racing and his brain is screaming, and he still hasn't answered.

Sirius lifts his head with a lazy smile. Apparently, he decides its time to stir, and he get up, and reaches into the basket once more.

And of course, he comes out with a small, velvet-covered, square box.

Wordlessly, he hands it to Remus, still with a smile on his face. Remus isn't even sure how to describe it. It's not cocky, it's not joking, it's…it's simply a loving smile.

Remus takes the box, and opens it. It's a ring, solid goblin-made silver, stamped with the Black crest.

He watches Sirius' eyes flick down to it, and he's the only person in the world who would have managed to catch the split-second disgust that those gray betrays.

Remus takes the ring out of the box and throws it over his left shoulder.

Sirius watches, shocked, as Remus picks a blade of grass and ties it around his finger, before waggling it at Sirius.

_I will._

Sirius smiles the widest Remus has ever seen, ties himself a grass ring (better, so much better than the other ring, he thinks, relived) and kisses Remus in his sheer happiness.

Remus will marry him. And with a grass ring, no less.

The two would have kissed forever, Remus thinks later, if it hadn't been for that silvery mass.

_Voldemort's found us. We just escaped. Come, quickly, now, please! Please. _

The two pull apart, eyes only for the patronus in front of them. James'.

They stand up as one, Remus grasps Sirius's hand, and they turn on the spot, going into the darkness.

--

A week later, Lily and James are dead.

And then Sirius is in Azkaban.

Remus fingers the grass ring, still on his finger, preserved by a charm, and a tear drops onto it.

A second later, it's off his finger, and its thrown across the room, trodden on, and the tears keep falling.

--


End file.
